


Pieces of Earth

by rashaka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Lincoln the Trigedakru, Marcus Kane - Freeform, Minor Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Minor Raven Reyes, Monty Green - Freeform, Nathan Miller - Freeform, Romance, Shorts, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, raven reyes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:09:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 15,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4516101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rashaka/pseuds/rashaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted tumblr one-shots and prompt replies, all bellarke of some flavor. AUs, future fic, vignettes, speculation, ask box fic, smut fic, fluff, romance, adventure, angst, etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What’s A Few Jitters Now And Then

**Author's Note:**

> This is an archive of my short fics and ask box stuff from tumblr and other media. My tumblr name is "rashaka" also, so feel free to look me up there. I'm always open to receiving prompts, but I don't answer them very often. You can still send them though, because if one inspires me, I'll definitely go at it. Comments are welcome below, and kudos too! Feedback gives me the energy to write and stay engaged.

_(sometime in future seasons)_

 

Monty found the groom in long-term food storage, with his hands braced against the steel shelves and his shoulders pulled up around his ears.  ”Hey, man,” he said mildy, “If you stay here much longer you’ll be spending your wedding night with that bag of rice.”

Bellamy dropped his arms and turned.  ”A bag of rice is less frightening than marrying Clarke.”  

The other man tilted his head, unimpressed.  Feeling the waves of judgement, Bellamy sighed, and ran a newly tattooed hand through his hair.  ”I was so sure yesterday. Now I can’t feel my legs.”

Crossing his arms, Monty hmmm’d.  ”I don’t have to tell you that if you screw this up today, by next year she’ll end up with that Grounder, Eric.”  When Bellamy frowned, he added, “Eric has three horses, I hear. One of them is dappled white like the snow, which he got for winning an archery contest against at least forty other warriors.  How many horses do you have, again?”

”You know, you’re a lot more of a smartass without Jasper hanging from your belt loop.”

Monty rolled his eyes, “Don’t lash out at me when you’re the one in a grain closet, hiding from an incredible woman that you magically tricked into liking you. Come on, Bellamy. It’s  _Clarke_.”

“I know,” he replied, in a softer voice.

“You love Clarke.”

“I know.”

“Side by side to the ends of creation kind of love.  Getting arrested together for insubordination kind of love.” Opening his hands up in a shrugging gesture, Monty dropped his WMD: “Dude, last week I saw you give her your coffee ration.  What can marriage possibly be after that?”

“It’s not like I have a lot of role models to go by!” Bellamy snapped.  "I don’t even know what a functioning marriage looks like.  What if it falls apart?  What if we have kids and it turns out we’re horrible parents?  What if she dies?  What if I die, and she’s all by herself?“

"She could always marry Eric and his horses.”

“Shut  _up_  about the horses already!  I get it.”

Shaking his head, Monty said, “Obviously not, because you’re still here talking to me.  Ask yourself this: say all those terrible things are going to happen, so you decide not to go through with it. Do you wanna be lying on your death bed someday knowing that you could have married Clark—and _didn’t_?”

Letting a huge breath escape, Bellamy set his shoulders. “Fuck no.”

"Great!” Monty grinned, and pointed down the corridor.  "Bride’s this way. Hurry though, every time she tries to say something your sister pins another flower on her.“

"Yikes,” said Bellamy. When it came to decorating, Octavia was known to reject subtlety on basic principle.

“Yeah." 

"I should probably go rescue her.”

“It would be the romantic thing to do.”

As the lucky groom stepped out of the food locker, Monty clapped him on the back.  They walked together toward the opening in the back of the downed Ark.  As they stepped into the sun, they saw grass stretching out to the forest on the west end of the camp. Near the tree line, a group of humans milled around a big rock, at the foot of which stood a blond woman in a long, leather dress and rabbit fur collar.  Her hair was up high on her head, and it did appear to be nearly overburdened with green and white blossoms.

“Holy shit,” whispered Bellamy. Monty turned to look back at him, eyebrows raised in challenge. And just like that, Bellamy realized he was smiling.  

He was smiling so big that any minute now his cheeks would hurt.

“I’m getting married.”


	2. grey sky morning (so you sailed away)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "grey sky morning" - Bellarke prompt: Bellamy saying goodbye the morning he departs with Lincoln for Mount Weather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an anonymous prompt: "Bellamy saying goodbye the morning he departs with Lincoln for Mount Weather."

A cold sun stabbed through the trees on the morning of their scheduled departure, illuminating the two camps and the uneasy, shifting humans within.  Two of those unhappy creatures were Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake, who stood side by side on the west end of camp while behind them, sleeping packs were being rolled up and fire pits covered over.  They were side by side because that’s where they felt most comfortable, and they were unhappy because they soon wouldn’t be.

“It’ll take you a full day to reach the Mountain,” Clarke said, meeting his eyes with unwavering confidence. Her hair drifted around her face in tattered waves, as wild now as she was controlled. “Rest, then enter in the early hours. Once you’re inside you might not get to sleep for a long time, so take the break.”

“We will.” Bellamy’s answering gaze was attentive: the dutiful soldier’s mask.  He had a great deal of practice with this mask, as useful as it was dispiriting.

Clarke shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and turned her body toward his.

 ”I feel like I should thank you now or something,” she admitted. “That’s pretty horrible, isn’t it?  I bet it’s what my mom would do.”

Bellamy sighed and crossed his arms, letting the gun on his shoulder swing and knock against this thigh.  He opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing  After another minute of silence, he toed the ground with his boot.

“It’s a shit basket all around.”

A huff escaped from Clarke, not a laugh or a sob, but something muffled and quiet in between.

“Yeah, it is.”


	3. So What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Bellamy when he hears about Clarke and Lexa, jealousy

  
They were sitting on a large rock tucked into the wall of a ravine, watching the rain fall. Their legs were stretched out on the boulder side by side, and several feet beyond, their ‘cave’ ended in a cascade of water. It was noisy, and cold, and Bellamy was just grateful they’d found shelter at all, no matter now small.

“I kissed Lexa,” Clarke said with absolutely no context. Just boom, drop the bomb and wait for the reaction. It was so very  _Clarke_.

What did she expect him to say to that? Was he supposed to be her crying shoulder? Did she expect him to scold her for having terrible taste in lovers? It'd been sixth months since the Trigedakru betrayed them, and two months since Clarke had come home, and now she decides this is a worthwhile time to bring it up.

They had been getting… closer wasn’t quite the word, but they had been getting somewhere. But this morning before their trip Clarke had gotten standoff-ish and weird. She talked to a guardswoman for a long time right before they left, right in front of him, batting her eyelashes and tucking her hair behind her ear. Was she trying to make him jealous?

Or maybe Clarke was above that kind of juvenile behavior, and Bellamy just saw it as jealousy because it  _was_  jealousy.

So big deal if it was. So what. He didn’t like her flirting with other people and he didn’t like the idea of her kissing Lexa and he didn’t know what the fuck she wanted from him right now.

“I bet that was like kissing a pinecone,” he said.

It must’ve been the right response, because Clarke busted out a laugh and looked right at him, smiling.

“Yeah,” she conceded, “a little bit.”


	4. Conflict Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bellarke smut prompt: dirty talk, risk of being caught publicly, modern AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU, coworkers in an office.

They knew each other for three months before Clarke and Bellamy became Clarke & Bellamy, and the only reason it took three months was because they had wildly different views on how their project funding should be used, and their office conflict almost brought them to the point of HR negotiations. Instead, management came down hard on both of them, went with a third proposal (Cage’s proposal), and told them to work together or the were both fired. Since neither of them liked the chosen proposal, or Cage as it happened, Clarke and Bellamy found themselves united at last under the burden of a shared enemy.

After they began working as a team, the barriers fell like dominoes, and a budget debate over Chinese food turned into Bellamy fucking her on the small plaster counter of their office kitchenette.

It was two hours after close of business, and the cleaning crew could be coming any minute, but that didn’t seem important with her heels digging into his back and her neck stretcher taught in front of him, straining as she gasped. Clarke whispered into his ear how much she wanted to fuck him these last two weeks, how hard he felt inside her and how she’d known it would be like this.

“You feel so good inside me, Bellamy, fuck. I knew you would be. …I knew you would be.”

“Clarke,” he panted in her ear, his hands pulling their bodies together tighter and keeping her upright on the unsteady surface. “Clarke. Fuck, Clarke.”

“Tell me,” she demanded with a moan.

“I want you,” he whispers, almost harshly, against her neck. “I’ve wanted you since we met and you wore that short blue skirt that barely covered your ass. I wanted it exactly like this.”

“Here? Like this?”

“Here,” he agreed, slipping one hand between them to grind it against her clit while he thrust even faster. “Just like this.”


	5. that’s a fine looking high horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Bellarke speed prompt:_ Post 2x09. Clarke tries to live by the "love is weakness" motto, and she really does her best to numb herself, but they lose contact with Bell & Lincoln and the void grows inside her. When she finds his bloody jacket (in the woods? in the tunnels? in Mount Weather when they storm it), the dam breaks. ( ;____; *rolls over* *cries*)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> season 2 AU speedfic, includes Clarke and Kane and angst. this one feels a little OOC to me, but I was going with the prompt.

Clarke’s composure held through four days, six hours, and twenty-nine minutes.

Four days, that’s it.

It turns out she’s not as cool and stoic as she thought, because finding Bellamy strapped to a table with red tubes running from his limbs is enough to bring Clarke to her knees. His wrists are chained to the steel bolts on the med-lab floor, and square bandages like white beetles march up his arms and legs in regular progression.  

He’s unconscious, and she’s almost afraid to see if he’s breathing.

“Mother of God,” says Marcus behind her.  “This is what they did to Harper and Monty, isn’t it? We need to move him. Clarke—”

She’s up again before he can ask. She pushes her feet beneath her knees, using her hands to propel her upward, because Bellamy is there on that white table and if Clarke doesn’t stand up for him now, she doesn’t deserve to call him her friend.

Seeing what they’ve done to him (what she asked him to do), it’s a long shot to say she deserves anything at all from him again.

“Oh god, Bellamy…” She peels the straps off him, fumbles with the key to the chains. Kane is working on Bellamy’s legs, pulling out tubes and disconnecting electrical feeds.  They have minutes, maybe, before the second wave of Mountain guards hit this section. 

“It’s a miracle we found him at all,” Kane says as he grabs a pair of scrub pants from a cabinet and shoves them onto the unconscious spy. “There’s no one else in this lab, and the grounders are two sections over.  We could have walked right by.”

Clarke’s not sniffling but there are tears running down her face, and they won’t stop.  ”What are you telling me?” she asks as the saltwater streaks reach her chin and the corner of her mouth. One more strap to go, and she jams the small rod of the buckle through the rubber strap, ripping it off his skin.  ”That life’s so funny and ironic, because he could have died thinking we’d abandoned him?”

“I’m saying,” Marcus grunts as he pushes his shoulder under Bellamy’s arm and they drag him off the hospital bed, “that your insurrectionist boyfriend here has the luck of a roaring camp.”

She doesn’t know what that means, and she doesn’t care, because Bellamy’s arm is slack around her shoulders and his head is lolling to one side as they stagger toward the hallway. Clarke puts all her strength into keeping him upright while Kane radios to their back-up with his free hand.

“I’m sorry,” she cries into Bellamy's shoulder, not even caring who hears her anymore. “I’m sorry I sent you off thinking that I only saw you as a weakness. I don’t see you that way, Bellamy, I swear I don’t. You’re so much more than that.”


	6. Waiting On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern Art School AU, both of them as TAs. _prompt:_ It’s the fifth time he’s checked his watch in the last 5 minutes but goddammit she should be here by now, what’s taking so long?

It’s the fifth time he’s checked his watch in the last five minutes, but goddammit she should be here by now.  _What’s taking so long?_   Bellamy glanced up the landscaped pathway again, then sighed. 

“Boo!” said a voice in his ear, and he only jumped about six feet straight up. Maybe seven. He spun around, and his shoulders dropped.

“Clarke, hey.”

“Who’re you waiting for?”

Bellamy looked at the nearest building, SH 102, then at the grass, then discreetly back at his watch. “Echo. I mean, uh, Rachel Trigedas.”

Clarke moved to stand next to him, rocking her weight back on her heels as she examined the two-way cement path. A few students milled around the AS lecture entrance, gossiping or reading their cell phones. “Isn’t this the second time she’s stood you up?”

“She’s artistic, that’s all. She doesn’t operate like most people.”  

Clarke looked at him with the same expression as the time she found him shirtless smoking a joint in the women’s bathroom of the faculty administration building. “Bellamy, you make ten foot glass sculptures with your hands. I’m learning to restore paintings for a living. If we can show up to TA meetings on time, Rachel-–sorry,  _Echo_ –-can move her fingers to text her date.”

“Did you go over the last period for Jaha yet?” he asked to change the subject.

Clarke grinned, and unzipped her bookbag to pull out a stack of papers. “Yeah, here’s your section. I love grading midterms for art students. Half the essays are the most beautiful compositions I’ve ever read, and the other half don’t even know how to spell ‘moon’ properly. There is no in between.”

Bellamy took the stack and shoved it into his own bag, glancing at his watch one more time. “Fuck it. You hungry?”


	7. Let Me Count the Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke makes it clear to Bellamy how important he is to her, and how much she cares. Romance, post season 2, future fic, fluff, INTIMATE FEELINGS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bellamyward: "I just see Clarke and Bellamy as two people who don’t need each other to live, but their lives are better when they’re together. working together, hanging out together, just being together."

In the quiet darkness of their room on the fallen Ark, Clarke and Bellamy lay together. Their bodies were tucked in far too closely on the small bed, and it really was a terrible way to sleep, but the floor got too hot and the tents outside had all been claimed.

When Clarke came home, she willingly took an Ark room, with its grotesque summer heat and its disturbingly slanted floor. When Bellamy joined her (because their story was always heading in a single direction, even if they didn’t want to admit it for a long time) he gave up the tent he’d been sharing with two other people, brought along a nicer bed pad, and made himself at home.

“Do you know when I fell in love with you?” Clarke asked one night, her chin propped on his chest and her hands tracing his skin.

“It was when you saw me take my shirt off,” Bellamy murmured, sort of paying attention and sort of asleep.

“No,” said Clarke warmly, “It was when we were all stuck on that alpine trail, and you gave Raven your rations so she could stay awake to fix the gps device.”

“Sure you’re not in love with Raven?” he slurred, popping open one eye to squint at her.

She pinched him, good-naturedly, and said, “I’m being serious. I looked at you and I knew that  _you_ knew Raven was the most important person, the one to protect. You got that and you helped her. And we all made it out.”

“So you love that I’m pragmatic? I don’t know about this speech, babe.”

Clarke crawled up the last few inches till she was completely on top of him, their faces close and her breasts squished against his chest.

“Bellamy. I love that I can trust you to know what matters when it’s hard to see a way out. I love that you care about our friends. I love that you try so hard to make things better now, in ways most of us don’t acknowledge, let alone appreciate. I love you because you went to a dark place when we first landed, but you came out of it okay, and that makes me think that I can do the same.”

Clarke let a sly grin cross her features. “And yes, I love it when you take your shirt off.”

Awed, a now completely-wakened Bellamy stared at the pair of blue eyes just above his own.

He lifted one hand from the curve of her back and caught a piece of her hair between his fingertips, pushing it away from her face.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. “That…No one had ever told me anything like that before.”

“You’re welcome,” Clarke grinned, and kissed him lightly on his forehead.

Immediately, Bellamy pushed upward and rolled them on the tiny bed. He leaned back on his elbows, looked Clarke in the eye, and said, “Clarke Griffin, you are the most amazing woman I have ever met.”

Then he kissed her, or she kissed him, but in the end their fingers entwined and their breaths matched and they stopped using words entirely.


	8. Things Invisible To See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shut up Bellamy,” says his wife, “We’re making art.” (future canonverse, Bellamy with tattoos)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration: Bellamy with tattoos

He gets the first mark on his wrist: a snake that’s almost an Ouroboros, but for the curling, twisting tail. A month later the snake’s tail becomes a tree-trunk, with fanning branches and leaves that fall as rain across the tendons of his hand.

“What is that, like, Yggdrasil?” asks Monroe, and so she’s startled when he beams at her that she almost drops her plate of onions.

 

When Bellamy presents his palms to Miller—with a poem by John Donne translated into  _Trigedasleng_ marks that spill down his fingers—the younger man laughs. They both know Bellamy won’t be able to use his hands for a week.

“You fucking nerd, now you’ll have to actually attend those meetings Clarke wants you for.”  Miller’s snigger bounces around the tent and Bellamy gives him the middle finger ( _Every man is a piece of the continent, A part of the main_ ) before re-wrapping his bandages.

 

Four years on the ground finds him lying under the clouds on a plank of red mulberry while Clarke and Lincoln hover over his chest like a pair of  mismatched birds.  In the corner of his eye there are ink pots and an open flame, boiling water and the wafting stink of chemicals.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Bellamy says as Clarke repeatedly pokes him in the sternum with a short ceramic pin.

“I could’ve had Adonna do this. I saved her granddaughter, so I know she likes me.  But out of the generosity of my heart I’m letting you two hack amateurs—”  Lincoln accepts the tool from Clarke to make a new row of micro incisions, and he’s considerably less friendly about it, “—stab me with a needle that you haven’t cleaned once in the last ten minutes.”

While he complains, the sun slips out from behind a cloud, and he squints to see them in the sudden blaze.

“Shut up Bellamy,” says his wife, “We’re making art.”


	9. Inhale/Exhale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapped in a closet trope!

The war ends and another begins, an endless cycle of who stole whose hunting range and who killed whose sister’s nephew. The Sky People thought that they were above this kind of petty warring, that they remembered the legacy of death from their ancestors in a way no one else did, and that they wouldn’t be drawn into these constant menial disputes.

They aren’t above anything, it turns out. When push comes to shove, the people of the Ark want this hillside or that hillside as badly as the next clan, and for exactly the same dull and inescapable human reasons. So it happens that war sucks, and hiding in the closet of an ancient abandoned farmhouse while Rock People warriors point arrows in every direction sucks too.

In front of her, through the cracks in the blinds, Clarke watches a warrior woman stomp over dusty piles of crap, kicking over decayed furniture. She has a terrifying long knife, a disgruntled expression, and more body armor than Clarke or Bellamy combined.  Behind her, Bellamy stands at attention, his front to her back and his arms braced on the wall of either side of them. He exhales warm air against her neck, one of his hands dropping to finger her belt, and Clarke knows he’s thinking they can take her.

But can they also take the three scouts just past the entry? What if the next Rockru warrior has a bow, or a spear?

No, silence will take care of this. Silence is their best shot.

The woman turns and looks right at their closet door. Clarke doesn’t breathe, can’t breathe, but her grip on her knife tightens and she leans back, just a fraction.

Behind her, Bellamy’s frame is taught and still, steady as a wall, and—

—poking her in the back.

 _No_ , she wants to shout at him. _No, no, you cannot be excited at the idea we could die at any moment. You cannot be fucking serious right now._

Bellamy inhales sharply, and the warrior tilts her head. Clarke silently slides her free hand over Bellamy’s, where it rests at her hip. She doesn’t dare speak or take a another breath for herself.

At last, the Rock woman turns and marches out of the room. They listen for several minutes after the distant clatter of doors and snarled language disappears.

Finally, after far too long, Clarke whispers “What the hell, Bellamy?”

He squeezes the hand still at her side.

“We’re in a closet,” he hisses, “and you’re practically standing on top of me. I’m only human.”

“There’s a time and a place,” she snarls, very quietly still, over her shoulder.

Since his mouth is right by her ear, his response is almost as low. “Not with you, there isn’t.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Considering that they’ve been gone for a while now and you’re still pushing your backside against me, I’m starting to think that this is the only time and place that works for you.”

“Other places work for me!” she whisper-snaps. “You never asked.”

The pause that comes after this is so long, Clarke worries for a moment that he might have heard something coming through the house again. Then he leans forward and trails his lips over her neck and up to her ear. It’s not a kiss, barely a graze of his mouth against her skin, but it’s sends a clench right through her neck, down her spine, and to her legs.

“I’m asking now,” he whispers.

The building is falling down around them, the Rockru could be back at any minute if they don’t get out of here, and _now_  is when he decides to make a move.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Bellamy says softly, so softly he makes hardly a sound at all. Then before Clarke can reply he puts both hands on her hips, spins her around, and meets her mouth in the dark like she’s all that he ever wants to taste again.


	10. The 100 AU: Clarke the Vampire Slayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A comprehensive detailed three-season breakdown of how to fuse The 100 with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I'm really proud of this one, it's great.

**rashaka** to **underbellamy:** _“So… it seems like I felt compelled to take two hours of my day and write up a three season outline for exactly what this BtVS fusion AU would look like and how it would all play out and[I used your post](http://underbellamy.tumblr.com/post/115040636278/) and all my other thoughts and ANYWAY [I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT](http://underbellamy.tumblr.com/post/115213333788/the-100-au-clarke-the-vampire-slayer). (I hope someone writes it. pretty please.)"_

 **underbellamy:** OH MGY OD THIS IS FABULOUS EVERYONE READ THIS ITS LIKE A SHOW OH GMY ODDDDDDDDDDD MOR EMROE MROERMEORMEORE

 

**SEASON 1 - Junior Year**

******THE PLAYERS:  Clarke, Bellamy, Octavia, Finn, Raven, Jasper, Monty, and Abby**

 

\- At the end of her sophomore year Clarke was happy and she had great friends, good grades and enjoyed her private school but she flipped her lid when her father was murdered by a group of vampires.  She was still very new to the whole vampire slaying thing and she at first refused to believe she was one and to be one, but after Jake’s death Clarke knew and that was the beginning of the end for her, she was never the same.

\- Clarke wanted revenge so she went on a rampage to the ‘den’ where they all were and pretty much killed most of them which lead to an explosion of the club they were in. Her first watcher, Nyko, was killed that same night.  She was arrested for being suspected of numerous missing persons/ murder but she was let off because of lack of evidence.

\- New girl Clarke moving to Ark city for ‘a new beginning’ as her mom said because they were getting away from their old town, new school year.

\- Now a Junior, at this new public school she was going too (bc she now wasn’t allowed in private ones bc of her record) she met a small group of friends Raven (who was a junior), Monty and Jasper who she at first tried to avoid bc she didn’t want personal connections but they somehow snuck their way into her life and they grew on her (they thought she was a complete bad ass when she told them vaguely of why she left her old town, but she never specified if she actually did what she said, just of what she was accused, which they always teased her about)

\- Finn is Raven’s boyfriend, part of their friend circle, and Clarke likes him because he’s funny and cute but she doesn’t want to like him as much as she fears she does

\- A month into schooling when she was settling down Bellamy Blake the new librarian moves to the high school and word travels fast bc god damn it he was attractive, he also had a little sister that was in the same grade as her

\- Octavia, a junior too, was intimidatingly beautiful and she already had a handful of guys after her. There were rumors that she got kicked out of 4 schools for violence or vandalism, but somehow she squeezed her way into Clarke’s friend group and she was always so keen on that silver cross around her neck.

\- Sure enough Clarke was called into the library one day towards the end of school, and she was left wondering what they wanted bc she was sure she hadn’t checked out any books latley and when she got there, Bellamy Blake had introduced himself as the new librarian (and rumors serve he was hot as hell with his dress shirt rolled up to his sleeves fitting his arms quite nicley and the same silver cross that was on Octavia was tucked in his shirt she noted) and to her displeasure he said he was her Watcher.

\- He had been called to look after her, and teach her everything she needed to know, in the begining she was stubborn as hell refusing his help and it drove Bellamy up the wall - he did not like this slayer at all.

But after a run in with vampires a few days later while walking home, lets just say she was lucky Bellamy was there to back her up, and ok so she did need training after all.

-Raven and Monty and Jasper and Finn would get involved too, Octavia had training from Bellamy to hold her own out in a fight against vampires (she was kicked out of so many schools for saving kids from getting the blood sucked out of them and herself)

\- The Blake siblings were like vampire hunters and went into the business after their mother was murdered and father was turned (Bellamy had to kill him with the leg of a chair in their kitchen it was traumatizing bc it was the first person he ever killed but a turning point for both of them)…until three years ago when the Watchers found them—the same Watcher society their mother worked for years ago.  

\- The Watchers trained Bellamy and supported Octavia’s early education and when the time came to pick a Watcher for the new Slayer they were going to send Diana Sydney, but Bellamy went to Kane and made his case that he’d be able to understand where the Slayer came from bc he’d lived the same traumas. And Kane knew that it was risky but he went with his gut and sent the Blakes, on “a probationary trial” with the notice that they’d be watching from a distance and tracking the Slayer’s progress.

\- Bellamy doesn’t tell Clarke about the Watcher’s Council, or that they’re being judged from afar, or that her situation is bigger than she ever realizes. He just takes Octavia and flees back to the States because vampires may be dangerous but he doesn’t trust The Watcher’s Council anymore (he doesn’t trust Sydney or Shumway, and he doesn’t think Kane is as in control as Kane thinks he is.)

\- When they get to the U.S. Octavia is enrolled at Ark High and soon she’s secretly dating a vampire named Lincoln who has a soul after being cursed by a gypsy hundreds of years ago (so hes pretty much Angel). Bellamy has no idea—but over the course of the season Jasper finds out, then Monty, and they try to keep a lid on it, but then Monty cracks and tells Clarke, so soon everyone knows and they try to keep it from Bellamy which is stupid and will blow up in their faces.

\- In Ark City the Master, Dante, is trying to rise from his sleep and get the strength to leave his underground lair and conquer the world above. People are kidnapped, kids are killed, it’s awful.

\- Clarke likes Finn but she holds back because Raven (who’s learning to make better weapons and traps for vampires and is basically AMAZING) is Clarke’s best friend.

\- Meanwhile Finn falls in love with Clarke. He admires her power and her beauty. He also has qualms about her killing vampires though—if Lincoln can be saved, can the rest of them?  He starts to have problems in his relationship with Raven. He breaks up with her.

\- The next night, Dante arranges for the Slayer to be kidnapped, and the vampires capture Clarke, Finn, and a little girl named Charlotte. Clarke finally frees them, but not before Charlotte is turned into a vampire. Clarke has to kill her, and when she and Finn finally escape, they’re all wound up.

\- Finn says he broke up with Raven and wants to be together. They’d just survived being kidnapped by a vampire nest and Clarke gets swept up in the moment. They sleep together. 

\- But then it turns out in the morning that Raven didn’t realize it was a break up, she thought it was just a fight. Clarke realizes she fucked up and avoids Finn and tries to get Raven’s forgiveness.

\- Bellamy watches all this with a lot of eye rolling and dismissive slamming of his book covers. He thinks Finn’s being an asshole but he also feels kinda sorry for all these kids being swept up in the same violence he and Octavia endured. He feels a little guilty for letting this happen to them—his job is to protect and indoctrinate the Slayer, not all her friends too.

\- On the night of the Spring dance, it all goes to hell.  Dante tries to rise to power, and Clarke faces him. She drowns.

\- Bellamy finds out about Lincoln, and tortures him to get information about any plans the other vampires might have (he’s convinced Lincoln works for Dante.) Octavia intervenes, and Lincoln is able to tell them where they might have taken Clarke.

\- Her friends rush to save her, and when they see her fall into the pool, Raven revives her with CPR. Then Clarke faces Dante again and slays the shit out of him.

\- With the Master gone, everyone’s alive, but romances have been broken up. Raven and Clarke are finally on the mend, trusting each other again.

 

* * *

 

**Season 2 - Senior Year**

**NEW PLAYERS:  Cage, Tsing, Anya**

 

\- Cage comes to town. He is Dante’s favorite Child, the new master vampire in Ark City. Cage—who made Lincoln into a monster decades ago. Cage terrorizes them and it’s horrible. He brings Dr. Tsing, who likes to experiment with the line between human and vampire.

\- Clarke steps up her training with Bellamy. They spend time together, and although it’s perfectly professional and he only ever treats her like a coworker or a student, Clarke finds herself telling him all her fears and her dreams. She tells him her secrets. She slowly realizes that while she trusts her friends, none of them understand her like Bellamy does.

\- Bellamy is supposed to report everything Clarke tells him to the Council. And for a year, he did. He was loyal. Yet after she dies the first time, after he looks at her wet hair and blood stained dress when she strides back into her circle of friends and hugs them, crying, so fierce and beautiful, something changes. He stops sending the personal reports. He gives them kill counts and details about the monsters they face—but he tells them almost nothing about Clarke.

\- Finn helps them fight the vampires and he helps them research but he can’t get over Clarke. He can’t let it go. He meets Dr. Tsing and she seems so different from the rest—she offers to tell him about vampirism. She tells him they’re not all evil, that they make beautiful art and have centuries worth of experience to share with humanity.

\- Anya, the new Vampire Slayer, arrives.  She’s fierce and duty bound, trained from early on as a Potential Slayer.  Clarke works hard for her respect.

\- Monty didn’t mean to started doing magic but after a year as the main research assistant to Bellamy, he found himself drawn more and more to the magical texts. Magic was like a meeting of physics and biology, two things he loved. It was herbs and tonics like his grandmother makes; it was light and energy and signals like he learned in his advanced science classes.

\- One day, for no reason at all, Monty drew the power lines in his mind and raised his finger, watching the pencil rise, rise, rise. With magic Monty can protect his friends. He can relieve Clarke’s burden and keep Jasper safe. He can get respect from people like Bellamy and Octavia. Magic can give Monty Green everything he ever wanted—he just has to decide to take it.

\- Octavia sleeps with Lincoln and he changes overnight into a soulless monster, Cage’s creature once again.

\- Finn lets his guard down around Dr. Tsing, and she changes him into a vampire.

\- In the mid-season finale Monty figures out the spell to give back Lincoln his soul. Jasper and Raven help.

\- It’s a success, and Clarke and Octavia and Bellamy rescue Lincoln and bring him back to the cage in the library to recuperate, feeding him blood bags and waiting for him to come back to himself.

\- When they get back, they find their friend Finn, now a vampire, standing over the body of Anya. Finn smiles at Clarke, excited to show off his new power, excited to impress her. He tells her he gets it now—he understands what the vampires are and he wants to tell her so much.  Raven screams and Clarke can’t move but finally Octavia acts. She shoots a crossbow at Finn. He dodges and leaves, promising to be back.

\- The rest of the season is a big ole’ nightmare.  Cage and Tsing try to open a gate to Hell to end the world. Finn stalks Clarke and tries to kill/eat her friends. Dr. Tsing did something to him so that the curse to restore a vampire’s soul doesn’t work on Finn. The breaking point comes when he attacks Raven and injures her permanently, after she tried to stop him getting to Clarke.

\- With Bellamy’s help (it feels like these days Bellamy is only one she can count to have her back in the fight, to be strong enough not to die when she looks the other way)… Clarke finally kills Finn to seal the portal to Hell.

\- The whole time Finn says he loves her and he doesn’t understand why she’s so mad—doesn’t she see he’s better this way? He smiles with blood in his teeth and Clarke cries while he dies because he’s not really Finn Collins anymore at all.

\- Lincoln, Jasper, Monty and Octavia trap Cage and Tsing in a building and burn them alive while Clarke closes the portal.

\- When it’s over Bellamy tries to comfort her but Clarke can’t handle that she killed her friend (the boy Raven loved, a boy she almost did) so she bottles up her feelings and tries to move on. She stops confiding in Bellamy, and he worries.

\- The kids all graduate high school.

 

* * * 

 

**Season 3 - Freshman Year of College**

**NEW PLAYERS:  Jaha, Wells, Lexa, Diana, Wick**

 

\- At Ark University, Clarke meets Wells. He’s the son of Mayor Jaha, very charming and kind. He wants to be her friend, but Clarke is uninterested in more than casual acquaintence.

\- Diana Sydney arrives with the next Slayer, Lexa. Lexa is erratic, dangerous, and Syndey tries to take control of Clarke’s training too. No one trusts her.

\- Lexa flirts with Clarke, but Clarke can’t be with anyone right now. She spends all her free time training; the hours on the practice mat with Bellamy are her only escape, the only time her mind is clear.

\- Bellamy learns he’s been fired (they don’t trust him), and that the Watchers will no longer subsidize Octavia’s education.  He takes the money he’s earned and buys the Magic Box shop, insisting he won’t leave town or be replaced by Diana.

\- Diana turns out to be evil, and she gets herself killed with bad magic. Lexa flees after her Watcher dies. She tries to get Clarke to come with her, but Clarke won’t leave her friends behind.

\- The incident with Diana’s death has another casualty— bystander Wells Jaha.  Mayor Thelonius Jaha is furious, and the gang soon realizes he’s not just the mayor—he believes he’s been chosen to be a demon. He’s going to ascend, and now that his son his dead he’s determined to kill the Slayer as part of his Ascension.

\- While all this is happening, Monty learns more powerful magic.  Jasper becomes a werewolf (not so funny when it’s happening to you, haha). Lincoln and Octavia try to have a relationship without sexual intimacy.

\- Raven starts her recovery and she meets Kyle Wick in her robotics class.  He mocks her for being a car mechanic on the weekends, but honestly he likes her talent, and she mocks him for waiting until his senior year in college to switch majors to Engineering because now they’re in courses together. She doesn’t tell him about vampires (how can she?) and she worries about him dying like Finn if he gets involved in that world.

\- Bellamy does alright with his new business: he has a tiny apartment attached to it, and he converts the basement to a training area. But he spends all of his free time with Clarke, trying to make himself strong enough to help her, and make her strong enough to survive the next battle. She finally opens up and tells him about her trauma, and he tells her that he was really fired because he refused to spy on her for the Watcher’s Council.

\- Over time Bellamy falls for the stubborn brave Slayer and he knows its against the rules but he can’t help it.  Clarke tries to shut out her feelings about him, afraid to lose someone else she loves, but she can’t and they are both just secretly in love with each other (battling their inner selves not wanting to cross that line)

\- After Diana dies, the Watchers Council sends a team into Ark City to test the Slayer.  They kidnap Bellamy, incapacitate him and leave him for vampire bait in a house. The house is a trap, and when Clarke goes to rescue him, she gets hit with a tranq dart that suppresses her Slayer powers.  There’s a vampire in the house with her, and Bellamy wakes up in chains, with only the powerless Clarke to protect him.

\- Clarke finally kills the vampire and frees Bellamy, but she is furious. Bellamy is  _hers_ , not theirs. They gave him up and tossed him aside, and now they endanger him to test  _her?_  Fuck the Watcher’s Council.  She finds the swat team that set up the trap, and she beats them up and leaves them to be found by the cops, who arrest them for being illegal immigrants waving around guns without a permit. When they finally get back to England, they give Kane the message that Clarke is no longer their Slayer, and to fuck off basically.

\- After that night with the Watcher’s test, everything changes. Bellamy and Clarke can’t stand to be out of each other’s sight. When she’s not studying she’s with him, and they dance closer and closer to that line.  

\- All the reasons they’d held back are being slowly cut away…Clarke isn’t a kid anymore, she’s 19 to his 24. He’s not her Watcher anymore (not officially anyway), because she doesn’t need a guardian, she needs a  _partner_. When Clarke thinks of safety, of trust, of home…her mind goes to Bellamy.

\- And he’s falling more deeply in love with her every day because he knows (he  _knows_ ) that none of it may last. Slayers die young and Clarke could die at any time. More than anything he wants to be by her side, to help her and to be strong enough for her to lean on when it all becomes too much. He sees what the burden of power has done to her and he wants to help her bear that.  They touch so often now (in sparring, in the desperate hugs after a battle, in her arm brushing his back as she passes behind his chair) that Bellamy can’t tell what’s friendly or what isn’t. He wants to give her all of himself, if Clarke wants to take it. If being with him will relieve the hell of her life for even one minute, one hour, one night—then that’s worth everything.

\- Their first year at college comes to a close. Mayor Jaha’s Ascension dawns.

\- In the big finale, all the secrets come out: Wick finds out that vampires are real and helps join the fight. Jasper admits he needs help controlling his werewolf side. Monty comes out to his friends and starts to date Miller. Clarke tells Bellamy that he’s the one she trusts the most, and kisses him.

\- In a speech on the university campus, Mayor Jaha becomes a demon snake.  They try to get everyone to fight, eventually they blow up one of the lecture halls, killing the demon snake.  In the battle their jerk classmate Murphy, a bully from high school, is turned into a vampire (he’s Harmony basically, lol).

\- After the battle, Clarke shows up at the magic shop when Bellamy is putting away his weapons.  Three years of tension snap and they crash together, pulling off clothes and having desperate, life-affirming sex on the same mat they’ve spent hours dueling and training on.

\- Across town, in an abandoned burnt building, a fissure from the Hellmouth opens up and the body of the vampire Finn Collins appears in a circle of moonlight.

 

**END OF SEASON 3**

*** * ***


	11. Run and I Will Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an illicit night together in s3, Bellamy goes after Clarke. Really just an excuse to write rough sex and then fluff. Terrible puns are included free of charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a surprise gift for [ raincityruckus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raincityruckus/pseuds/raincityruckus), because she's written several sexy prompts for me.

“What are you doing here?” Clarke whispered once he was inside the small hut. She let the heavy thrush door swing shut behind her, leaving only the two of them alone in the semi-darkness. This was what passed for her personal den in Polis: four mud-packed stone walls and an actual slab floor with a patchwork fur to make standing more comfortable. There was a bed in here, and desk, and Bellamy hated it.

“So this is where you ran off to?” He said, idly toeing the corner of the rickety desk with his boot. It was all plastic and metal, remnants of the old world. “Fancy.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke warned, “It’s dangerous for you to be here. Most of these people don’t like us. If you hadn’t been wearing Lincoln’s gear they might have stopped you at the gate. Permanently.”

“I thought of that,” he replied, turning partially away to examine the rest of her personal things. Not much to speak of there; Clarke was damn near Spartan at this stage.

He caught her eye over his shoulder. “The concern that some kid with a spear would get lucky didn’t seem particularly important compared to the sight of you leaving my tent yesterday.”

Clarke’s shoulders dropped. “Bellamy—”

“You know,” he interrupted, stalking toward her now as if he’d spent his whole life on Earth learning to hunt, “You didn’t say goodbye.”

He loomed; Clarke wavered in place.

“I didn’t know what to say,” she finally murmured. Their faces were too close, and she could feel the heat of his body only inches away. He wasn’t touching her, but it was the sort of intimidating, deliberate  _not_ -touching that she was all too familiar with.  Clarke inhaled through her teeth, and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “I had to get back before I missed...before I missed my window. I guess I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Sure.”  He rolled his eyes.  Bellamy actually  _rolled_ his fucking  _eyes_ at her like a disgruntled adolescent—

—and that’s when Clarke grabbed his cheeks in her palms and dragged his mouth down to hers where it belonged.

Like a firecracker, they were off: Bellamy slid his hands inside her heda coat and nearly ripped it off her, while Clarke fumbled to undo the buttons on his trousers. He dragged his shirt over his head the way all guys do, ruffling his hair as he went, and Clarke made an almost indiscernible mewling noise in the back of her throat. A few more harried seconds and she was naked, pulling him backward by the hips toward her rough, medieval looking bed.

“I hate that this place has so much of your attention,” Bellamy gasped as he dragged his fingers along her the edge of her cunt, rubbing up and down the lips to build up her wetness, slipping just inside to tease her.

“I know,” Clarke moaned. “But I told you last night that I had to finish this. You know how important it is.”

She ground herself down against the palm of his hand, wordlessly begging for the friction, and the wood frame of the bed was hard on his knees through the straw pad as Bellamy set himself above her, hips tucked slickly between hers and hand still at work to make her pant.

“Yeah, if you imagined I was going to let you stay the whole night with me, fuck me till I can’t function, sleep next to me, and then ghost out come morning…you weren’t thinking clearly.”

To punctuate his complaint, he used that moment to penetrate higher into her with his hand and rub her clit at the same instant. Clarke arched off the bed, pushing her breasts up where he had close personal view if he should want to lick them.

“So what’s your plan?” She got out between moans. “Follow me all the way to Polis and convince me with your body that I should give up everything I’m trying to do here and come home?”

“More or less. Is it working?” Bellamy pulled his fingers away from her hot wetness and brought them up to her face. Almost in a dare, he swiped her bottom lip with the sticky moisture; eyes glued to his, Clarke reached out with her tongue and licked his fingertips like a cat.

Like a gun with a hair-trigger suddenly firing, Bellamy crashed into her with a furious kiss. Her legs opened wide as he thrust inside her, their bodies already in sync. He rolled so Clarke sat on top of him, his dick buried in her as deep as he imagined he’d ever been inside another person. Always adaptable, Clarke pushed herself up and down, fucking him like she was riding one of her precious Grounder horses.

“It’s not _not_  working,” she said, lifting then sliding down his wet length.

“What?” said Bellamy, who’d momentarily forgotten what they were talking about.

“You, me, here,” replied Clarke in a husky voice. “Your master plan to convince me to come back early.”

Bellamy’s hands dug into her hips as he pushed up to meet her movements. He stuttered, “Right, this plan.”

In a moment of teasing that he hadn’t seen from her since their early days on the ground, Clarke leaned forward to grab his hair, slammed down so his entire cock has disappeared inside her, and said, “If you make me come in the next half-minute, I’ll tell you what I’m doing in Polis.”

“Bribing a guard is illegal,” he retorted, just to be competitive. Then, because he would have killed to get that information a few days ago, he flipped them again so Clarke was on her back, pounded into her with quick movements, and brought his hand to her clit.

Twenty seconds later, Clarke bit his shoulder when she came, locking her thighs around him and yanking herself as tight as a bowstring. She held herself in that stage, letting the orgasm roll over her, and two thrusts later Bellamy chased her over the edge. His arms locked around her shoulders and his face tucked into her neck, kissing first her chin, then her cheeks, then at last her lips.

They lay quietly for a few minutes, two bodies on a hard bed in a temporary hut in the middle of humanity’s final, fumbling attempt at civilization.

“Well,” Clarke conceded at last, “I may as well tell you about it. You _did_  come a long way.”

Against her neck, his bodyweight still partially sprawled over hers, Bellamy snorted.

“Come a long way? _Come a long way?”_

“That’s what I said.”

“Puns,” Bellamy said in disbelief. He didn’t even lift his head, just muttered his words into the crook of her shoulder. “That’s where your head is right now.”

“I keep telling people,” Clarke patted his hair. “I can be fun.”


	12. High Heels Are Instruments of Satan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> snippet of a modern wedding AU

Inspired by this graphic from fyeahbellarke:

 

The wedding would no doubt be gorgeous, but Clarke would never forgive Raven for these shoes. Pretty bridesmaids, all in silver cocktail dresses and four inch heels with “an arch that’ll make even your ass pop, Clarke.”

That was eight weeks ago. Clarke had rolled her eyes while Bellamy, dutifully sorting nearby decorations, retorted “Fuck off Raven, that’s my favorite ass of all the asses in this room.”

Clarke tossed a spindle of silk ribbon at his head. “You’re both terrible. I’m never getting married if this is what the future looks like.”

From off to the side where she examined her maid of honor with scientific precision, Raven said, “We all know that’s an empty threat. You probably weren’t going to ever get married anyway.”

“Do you care if we never get married?” Clarke asked, projecting her voice across the room and raising her arms on command as Raven tugged on this or that.

“Whatever you want,” replied Bellamy, pairing a beige flower with a soft pink stack of envelopes. “I know all your email passwords so I’m pretty sure I’ve got a hold on you either way. And if we get bored then I’m good for jumping over brooms, bloody handshakes, matching tattoos, you name it.”

“See,” said Clarke proudly, “The marriage industry enforces patriarchal value systems and high heels are instruments of Satan.”

“My wedding,” Raven told her with a wink, “My rules.”

“All hail,” agreed Bellamy, and Clarke gave them both her middle finger.


	13. Personal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> { From Senator Griffin-Blake's _A Collection of Poems & Essays, vol. 1_, submitted by daughter Tala Griffin to the Historical Library of New Polis, 2239 }

_{ From Senator Griffin-Blake's_ A Collection of Poems & Essays, vol. 1 _, submitted by daughter Tala Griffin to the Historical Library of New Polis, 2239 }_  
  


“Personal” by Bellamy M. Blake  
September 25th, 2163

I drag my fingers along the gate  
between power gaps and leafy branches   
between decayed metal and new bullets  
between the dinner bell and the Council  
and think of you                                                            5  
  
I stand in the glade where you stood last   
under the sun and all the empty clouds   
under the gnats and the high cricket song  
under the stars that see what I can’t yet  
and wish to you                                                             10  
  
I had dinner with your mom, and swear  
that it wasn’t my idea to eat  
that I didn’t mean to make her cry   
that we almost got along for the act  
of missing you                                                                15  
  
I’m writing this letter on paper  
which is too precious “for personal use”  
which tears easier than I thought it would  
which I hope you find with the bag and gun  
I left for you                                                                    20  
  
I know stars don’t fall and palms don’t kiss  
nor words make deeds or hope ask for a crumb  
but I said my nevers and slept my dream  
till human voices wake us all at once  
and you come home                                                      25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tala - Tagalog name meaning "bright star or planet". [(read further)](http://babynames.allparenting.com/babynames/Ideas/Filipino_Philippines_Girl_Baby_Names/)


	14. I Remember You In Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> { From the journal of Clarke Griffin, Year One, submitted by granddaughter Juniper Griffin-Diaz to the Historical Library of New Polis. All volumes to be released to free public record only after the death of both President Griffin in 2237 and the death her husband, Senator Bellamy Blake-Griffin, in 2239.}

_{ From the journal of Clarke Griffin, Year One, submitted by granddaughter Juniper Griffin-Diaz to the Historical Library of New Polis. All volumes to be released to free public record only after the death of both President Griffin in 2237 and the death her husband,[Senator Bellamy Blake-Griffin](http://rashaka.tumblr.com/post/120785667512/i-drag-my-fingers-along-the-gate-between-power), in 2239._

_[CLICK HERE](http://rashaka.tumblr.com/post/130314775862/) to experience an audio re-creation of this historical record} _

  
  
“I Remember You In Hands” by Clarke L. Griffin  
September 16th, 2163  
  


I remember the hand that caught me falling  
as the hand that held the gun  
Within your grip, your voice, your lies   
we revolved around your sun

I remember your hand in my hair  
as you bent your cheek to mine  
you told me about a monster  
I forgave you for your crimes

I remember the nail in my hand   
hanging loose and red with time  
your fingers slipping down beneath   
to pull it free of mine

I remember your hand in my hair  
as you bent your cheek to mine  
and I kissed your neck and held you  
my friend, the world realigned

I remember the weight of your hand  
heavy through my glove and leather  
as we pressed too tightly down  
on the hearts we broke together

I remember your hand in my hair  
as you bent your cheek to mine  
and I bent you close to breaking   
with a favor for goodbye

I remember how it felt to leave  
my heart bit and clawed inside  
and that final vanishing touch  
when your hand slipped out of mine


	15. Be Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t need to look at her every three seconds, she’ll be fine. She’s sleeping.” Octavia and Bellamy have a heart to heart about their injured friend.

“You don’t need to look at her every three seconds, she’ll be fine. She’s sleeping.”

Bellamy’s head snapped around to look at his sister; his mouth was pulled into a tight line, and the dark circles from stress and sleeplessness made his wide brown eyes seem even bigger. As she wiped down the large abrasion on his upper arm with a warm cloth, Octavia wondered when her big brother had last had a full, uninterrupted night’s rest.

“She’s not asleep, she’s unconscious.” His voice came out in low grumble, like he was speaking from the back of his throat, and his teeth clenched so tightly a muscle twitched in his jaw. 

Octavia raised her eyebrows as she picked up some tweezers to pick bits of rock and debris out of Bellamy’s wound. It was shallow enough to be tolerable, but there was always the risk of skin healing over foreign objects if it wasn’t properly cleaned. She had him sitting on one of the flat steel tables, his shirt off and his hair still grimy with sweat and bits of earth. He reeked like nothing Octavia could describe, and there was blood on his knuckles.  She made tutting noises as she worked, and felt, weirdly, like she was becoming their mother.  

Across the room, Clarke lay on a cot in the Ark’s makeshift medical lab. Her hair was fanned out across the cushion that acted as her pillow, and her arm was affixed to her chest in a rough sling. She had a bruise on her forehead, a busted lip, and a large, portentous bandage taped to her left side. Her eyes never opened, and she didn’t so much as twitch in her sleep. 

Octavia tried to give a reassuring smile, but she was a little out of practice. “Hey, her mother gave her a sedative to keep her down for a few hours–you were standing right there, remember? She’ll wake up soon enough, Bellamy. You know the Chancellor wouldn’t have gone to the outer room to crash if she wasn’t one hundred percent certain her daughter would be okay.”

Bellamy snuck another glance at the cot, then gave his sister a questioning look. “You’re being… nice.”

“Come on,” Octavia huffed. “I have my grudges, but I’m not the one cheering if she gets hurt. I want her upright and conscious when I yell at her, so that I know she gets the message.”

While she spoke, Octavia set her tweezers aside, then pulled a strip of sterile fabric around his upper arm. She knotted it tightly, then tucked the ends in, trying not to think of the battle just outside the gates, or the long arrow protruding from Clarke’s side as she crumpled to the grass.

“Besides,” added Octavia softly, “Clarke is important to the camp. And she’s important to you.”

Her brother swallowed, and like a compass needle, his gaze re-centered on the cot, and the young woman resting there. “She is,” he said at last. The reply was quiet, private, and to Octavia’s ear it didn’t feel like a confession so much as an affirmation.

“I know, big brother.” Octavia patted the finished bandage with the flat of her hand, and bent to kiss his cheek. “I know.”  



	16. In Good Times and Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> # 6 - “I’m sorry” kiss

Years in the future, they’re married, and the Sky People and Tree People are at peace, and there’s no more terrible villains except the winter cold. Bellamy finds Clarke standing by the fenced off gardens just out in front of their camp-turned-village.  His wife has her arms crossed, and she’s frowning.

“The whole crop,” she says dully as he approaches, “And the frost just destroyed it. Some of these were our last seeds. We’ll have to go through the stores at Mount Weather and hope they have the breeds we’re missing.”

Bellamy wraps his arms around her from behind, kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry about your medicine,” he says, and she leans back into the support of his arms. 

“Just hold me for a while and let me be angry about it.”

“I can do that,” he replies, and pulls her close.


	17. Extreme Human Conditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why don’t you ever wear a shirt?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU. Happy birthday Lina!

When Clarke took a summer archaeology internship to beef up her Forensics module after the second year of medical school, she thought the day to day aspects would be straightforward: bunk with a handful of grad students and the two overseeing Professors, look at old bones, get sunburned, destroy her nails through constant contact with dirt and rock, and get through a shit-ton of reading. All in all the experience was living up to her expectations… except the bunking part. 

Clarke hadn’t grasped full ramifications of spending twenty-four hours a day for six days a week (Friday was Drive Back To Town Day) with six other people. They bunked together, ate together, worked together, and exercised together. Monty liked to joke that they were probably the unknowing participants of a proto-experiment for Mars terrain habitation. Kane denied this, but Indra always stared flatly without answering. Room arrangements were binary: Indra had her own cordoned off area in a huge room that also slept Clarke, Raven, and Anya. Across the hall in men’s dorm were Kane, Monty…and Bellamy.

To understand why this whole situation periodically stressed Clarke out, you had to comprehend the heat. It was hot all the goddamn time. If she wanted a cool shower, she had to wake up at 4am for it. People wore just enough light fabric to keep the sun off, and half the evenings would end with the group’s wardrobe winnowed down to sports bras or general toplessness. Clarke was 98% sure this was an ongoing violation of some kind of workplace sexual harassment policy, but like most grad students she was too poor and too terrified of failure to ever voice her complaints out loud.

All this would have been tolerable but for Bellamy Blake’s jogging routine.

 Clarke liked to get up at the crack of dawn to do paperwork and have control over the coffee machine; Bellamy liked to get up at the crack of dawn to run up and down the halls of their housing + lab facility. While she sat down at one of the computers to go over data, Bellamy would swing by every five or six minutes, pass right in front of her station, meet her eyes, nod, and loop round again. For two weeks now he’d done it while completely bare-chested.

It was hot, Clarke got that. Even in the morning it was almost too hot for coffee. But seriously–“Why don’t you ever wear a shirt?”

“What?” said Bellamy dumbly. It was 7:08am, and she’d stopped him in between the showers and the guy’s room. Long story short: he was still shirtless, but now he was also damp, wearing a towel, and smelling like mint soap.

“You’re always half-naked,” Clarke said, crossing her arms. “Every morning. What is the point? There’s no one awake to see you.”

Bellamy raised his eyebrows, running his gaze up and down her form in a deliberate eyeballing. Clarke’s cheek twitched.

“I meant…” she ground out.. “There’s not an audience, so you might as well just wear something like a normal person.”

“Whether the act of wearing clothes can be considered a ‘normal’ state of being for humans is a garishly presumptuous statement,” drawled Bellamy. He was an anthropology major and consequently did not know how to turn down an argument, regardless of his state of towel-dress. “But this conversation has been illuminating. If you say there’s no audience, then I guess I’ll start wearing a shirt from now on. My mistake.”

While he spoke, a dribble of water broke free from the black hair behind his right ear and ran down the side of his neck in a tiny rivulet. It trailed over his collar bone, and that’s about when Clarke forced herself to stop looking.

“Yeah,” she replied, but it came out as more of a gurgling noise.

“So…will you let me get back to the room?” he asked, in a tone that sounded a little too bland and unaffected to be believed. “I’m kind of wet here.”

“Of course!” Clarke blurted, stepping aside and pointing needlessly down the hall. “Sorry for interrupting you.”

“Forgiven,” he tossed out. As Bellamy walked past her, she felt his damp, bare shoulder grazed hers. Which, okay, that was unfair tactics. The hallway was narrow, maybe, but it wasn’t that narrow.

As Bellamy turned into the men’s bunk, she watched his broad shoulders dip and vanish. She bit her lip, looked at the ceiling, and said to herself, “Well now you’ve done it. He’ll never go shirtless around you again. And he’ll probably stop jogging in the hallways, which means you’ll be totally alone at six in the morning. And he basically was doing it for you. Splendid. That’s just great. Way to screw yourself over, Clarke.”

After another tens seconds of so of recriminations, she went to get a second cup of coffee and mope about her life.


	18. Going Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> headcanon that bellamy loves to go down on clarke


	19. Mementos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If Bellamy and Clarke and the 100 stumbled onto your miraculously untouched house post-apocalypse what would each character take?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a meta piece and sort of fanfic. Came from a prompt.

> "If Bellamy and Clarke and the 100 stumbled onto your miraculously untouched house post-apocalypse what would each character take?"
> 
>  

Bellamy would take a memento, probably something small that he could carry on his person. He’d be weirded out to be in such a house, and not trust it. He wouldn’t take anything super noticeable. Let’s say this house has windows, and in the kitchen window little ornaments hang on strings, reflecting the sunlight. He’d choose a simple clear crystal, roundish and faceted, designed to be innocuous and pretty. He doesn’t know if it’s glass or plastic or maybe real crystal, but it sparkles as it sways from the breeze they let in. So he unties it and slips it into his small jacket pocket, the one that zips. He doesn’t tell anyone he took it, and he wonders if this makes him a thief–but it was such a little thing. No one will miss it, not anymore.

Clarke, ever practical, would take something that she could use that she wouldn’t get anywhere else. She’d go right past the frilly things and the private things. She’d grab the booze on the way, and open it as she explores. She takes a sip, grimace at its contaminated flavor, then set it down in disappointment. She doesn’t know what she wants until she sees it: a canvas tool bag. It’s fully loaded, with wrenches and bolts and screws and nuts and pliers and an awl and two different sized hammers, with a smaller box that has a variety of drill bits. All of it is new–never chipped, never rusted, never fatigued by a hundred years of stress. Some of the tools in the bag were never even removed from their original packaging. Most of these can’t even be made by the people at Camp Jaha, because they were created by machine factories that no longer exist. Clarke has never seen a set this pristine, and they’re the most valuable loot she could find short of medical supplies. She picks up the bag, zips it, grabs a hatchet from the shelf a few feet away, and stalks back into the main room.

Bellamy walks back the same time that she does, and he sees the bag under her arm.

“Are you sure you want to take that? This place’s been untouched so long… People could be avoiding it because of radiation. We probably shouldn’t pick up anything here.”

“This is worth it,” she says. “There’s a Geiger counter back at camp, we can check when we get home. If the stuff is clean, we’ll come back and clear the place.”

Bellamy shrugs, and swings his open palm toward the door in an ‘after you’ gesture. “You’re carrying it,” he warns her genially as they step outside, and she waves at him with the edge of a grin.


	20. Catch Your Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returned from the dead kiss + “I almost lost you” kiss

 

> _prompt: (24) Returned from the dead kiss +  (11) “I almost lost you” kiss_

 

I’m picturing this as future, maybe late season 3.  There’s been a big battle or a big heist of some kind, near a lake, and Bellamy ends up in the water.  He doesn’t come up, and Clarke finally shoots the lead villain and turns to the lake but  _he’s not there._  At that moment Octavia realizes the same thing, and being a lot closer, shucks her sword to the ground and dives in. Clarke starts to run to them, and just as she reaches the bank, Octavia’s head pops above the water, with her brother hanging against her shoulder.  Clarke helps drag him back onto the muddy bank, and immediately starts first aid.  

The next few minutes are terrifying, as desperate as Clarke has ever felt, but finally Bellamy jerks awake, turning on his side to spit out water and heaving deep, wet rasps. He sits up, clutching his chest, and Clarke and Octavia hug him at the same time, both of them crying.  Octavia promises to come back, then goes to find Lincoln and their friends. Clarke is left sitting by Bellamy’s side, unable to stop running her hand over his hair and shoulders and arms, as if checking that he’s still real. His face is still wan and gray, but full color is coming back to his features and he’s able to breathe almost normally again.

Finally, he grabs her fingers in his hands, and pulls her in for a hug.  Somehow she ends up in his lap, her arms around his neck, their cheeks pressed together as they sit on the wet mud bank of the lake outside Murphy’s secret bunker.

“It’s okay,” he promises her, which is weird because  _he_  is the one who stopped breathing for a minute or two.  Clarke makes an angry sniffling noise against his shoulder, then pulls back to cup his face in her hands.

“You were dying right in front of me.  That’s not okay.”

“Yeah but you brought me back,” replied Bellamy.  “That’s everything.”

An expression of intent overtook Clarke at this words, and she surged forward to slam her mouth against his. It’s probably the least sexy kiss of her life—his breath tastes like lake water, and she doesn’t know exactly what she wants from it except to let him know in some way that this is about more than just almost losing a friend. That  _he_  is more than just a friend.

For a moment he’s startled, then Bellamy responds to the kiss as earnestly as he can before he has to back off to catch his breath again. “We’re gonna talk about this later, right?”

“Definitely,” Clarke nods, pulling him back in for another hug.  She kisses his jaw and closes her eyes as she holds onto him tightly. “We’re gonna talk about a lot of things.”


	21. Don’t Leave Me Standing Alone In The Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First entry for Tumblr's BellarkeFanfiction Flashic Contest: March

Sunshine filled the apartment, spilling onto her face until her eyes blinked open. As promised, the little magic chip had worked, spiriting the reluctant princess to a faraway land.  The room around Clarke was decked in white and creams, with luxury known only to her ancestors. Even her nightgown was delicate cotton, thin and pretty where it stopped at her calves.  

Wonder eclipsed her carefully laid plans, and Clarke swung her legs over the side of the bed, rising to a new world. She gasped when her toes dipped into a generous carpet. Then she bit her lip, an involuntary smile breaking across her face as she padded over to the window and looked out on the City of Light.

Beyond the window, morning sunlight pooled over white stone buildings.  Glass pavilions and water fountains shimmered among stark, symmetrical lines. Far below, people sat on cut grass or walked hither like tiny creatures at work or play.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a man’s voice said in her ear, and warm arms slipped around her waist. Clarke sighed, leaning back against his bare chest as if it were a habit years in the making. Bellamy dipped his head to kiss her shoulder, swaying them both as they took in the view. Closing her eyes, she let her fingers slip over the arms that enfolded her, and turned slightly to meet his eyes.

With a gentle smile she’d never seen on him, Bellamy tipped his head to drop a small kiss on her mouth. “I feel like you’ve always been here with me,” he told her in a lover’s whisper. “Like you belong.”

A shiver traced down Clarke’s spine at the words. ALIE’s words.

“But I don’t,” she whispered back, focusing everything on holding her friend’s gaze. “Bellamy, none of us do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the amazing ["Open Invitation"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MXCSPlhXPvI) by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.


	22. I Think I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second entry for Tumblr's BellarkeFanfiction Flashic Contest: March

“This morning, I woke up with this feeling,” Bellamy began, setting his beer on the table by Clarke’s chair and leaning against the edge, arms at his sides. “Been bugging me all day.”

“Yeah?” she replied. “Crushing guilt for some secret you’ve been keeping, or more like you lost your keys?”

“Both, I think.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and Clarke uncrossed her legs, relaxing into her cheap dining chair like a monarch awaiting her vassal’s report. It was this confidence that used to drive him up the wall talking to her, but now Bellamy was just trying his hardest not to look at her cleavage.

“I had a dream,” he began.  Hard to articulate the next part–how she’d been looking at him just like this, with brazen eyes and a challenging quirk to her lips. How he’d stepped into her personal space, put his hands on her face and brought his mouth down on hers like an argument made flesh.  How the kiss had begun rough and hot, then turned seductive, and finally into something sweet. How she’d pulled back to stare at him with pink-stung lips and short, sharp breaths. How he’d woken up just when she opened her mouth to speak, jerking upright in his bed with his chest heaving and a dawning dread that followed him into the waking world.

“You were there,” he continued, “And—”

“Was this a sex dream?” Clarke interrupted, a smirk playing on her expression.

“No,” Bellamy said firmly, and dared to step forward till both hands trapped her in the chair.  He leaned down. “Sorry, Princess, it’s…a little worse than that.”

This close, her gaze dropped to his lips then up again, so quick he almost missed it. “How much worse?”

“One big…” he breathed, “…epic,” he closed the distance, “…..disaster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, and here we have a very unsubtle songfic for ["I Think I Love You"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bb4FMn-IWEY) by the Partridge Family. If you've never heard it, you're in for a treat. It's terribly earnest, and funny, and fun. It's my favorite song for modern AU Bellamy.


	23. Runaround

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ark AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometime in the future of an Ark AU where no one went to earth

It wasn’t really about sneaking around–except, of course, that it was.

Bellamy saw Clarke for the first time when she walked onto the third level observatory room, strode directly to the giant widow, and leaned her forehead against it. She was wearing a gray shirt that had once been buttoned and was now sewn partially shut, pants that cut off right at the swell of her calves, and soft-looking sneakers.  With her hair braided, the Chancellor’s daughter seemed young, but the blue-stripe medical badge hanging on her belt she had to be at least twenty. The sum total was pretty, a little sad, and way out of his league.

“Hey,” he said, leaning on the glass near her and entirely ignoring the bright planet below. “I bet you two food credits that that closet and I can make you smile much better than the view here.” 

Slowly, as if she hated looking away from her subject, Clarke’s eyes slid over to examine him. He knew what she’d see: a dark blue shirt over faded brown trousers, hair he hadn’t cut in too long, a face that girls seemed to admire. He smirked slowly, showing his teeth, and her back straightened.

“I don’t think a storage closet’s gonna make me smile,” she said, because no, of course it wouldn’t. Bellamy titled his head, angling his shoulders forward just slightly.

“Well, if you can walk fast, Doc, we’ll only waste about six of those minutes getting to my place.”

She looked him up and down again, slow, and Bellamy relaxed because yeah, this was definitely gonna happen. “I’m Clarke, Alpha Station,” she offered, extending one hand.

He took it, and didn’t let go immediately. “Bellamy, of Factory.”  When he dragged his thumb gently over her fingers, she raised her eyebrows.  Staring her right in the eyes–she had such pretty blue eyes, like the Earth below–he switched hands and tugged her away from the observatory window.  “Follow me, Princess,” and she did.

It was already late into the common schedule when they introduced each other, and no one saw the hasty walk to his solitary apartment. Halfway there he spun her around and guided her behind a recess to kiss away questions before she could voice them.

_How did he have his own quarters?_ Bite her bottom lip in a tease.   _Was anyone going to interrupt them and see her?_ Swallow the question in a kiss that made her whole frame shiver.

By the time he walked them both backward into his place, the princess was already working his shirt up his chest. She scraped her fingernails roughly across his abdomen and Bellamy inhaled at the sting. He slid the steel door shut, and then he wrapped his hands around her cheeks, kissing her hard and wet. Clarke met this with enthusiasm, combing her fingers through his hair and letting their feet bump as they stumbled toward the single bedroom. They pulled each other’s clothes off, as enthusiastic as they could be without tearing the ancient, worn fabric.

“Fuck, woman, your breasts are amazing,” he told her, dropping them both to the bed. His hand was behind her head when they hit the mattress, and she bounced up against him a little. She snorted at his admiration, then playfully palmed both her tits and pushed them together in comical exaggeration. She wiggled her eyebrows; it was funny, crude, and insanely hot. He dropped his head to lick them, and Clarke bit her lip as if stop herself from smiling.

“I hear a lot of talk so far, Bellamy of Factory, but I’m not convinced about the view yet.”

Raising himself on his elbows, Bellamy crawled till he hovered completely above her. His mouth hung just a breath above hers, and their eyes met. His hips pressed into hers, the cotton of his boxers brushing her panties with his hardness.

Below him, her hair spread out on his pillow, Clarke’s expression was hungry and hot. For a moment, they breathed in sync, then she raised her hips and pushed her center right up to his erection.

“Oh we’ve got time, Clarke of Alpha,” he said.  Smiled widely, Bellamy thrust his hips down and ground against her, pushing them both into the bed. Clarke gasped, and then she kissed him back with a lot of tongue and no decency. He laughed, and gave as good back. “Now tell me, Princess–how do you like it?”


	24. Something Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Raven and Clarke have some girl talk and some friendship time)
> 
> “Oh, no," said Clarke. "That’s not…he doesn’t.”
> 
> “Bullshit, you know he does.”
> 
> “He did bring me a present,” she admitted, almost whispering.
> 
> “I got one present four towns back,” observed Raven. “It was a tool, for fixing our radios. You’ve gotten presents at nearly every stop, and most of them are about things you like, not things you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for winterwaters
> 
> rated G

“Here,” Bellamy said as he plucked the grounder medicine jar out of Clarke’s hands. Almost as quick as he’d taken it, the jar was back in her possession again, its lid much looser and the glass warm from the contact of both their hands. Carefully, Clarke untwisted it the rest of the way, then she sent him a small smile, one eyebrow raised.

“My hero,” she said dryly. Clarke expected a rejoinder, probably along the lines of how grounder medicine might improve her grip, but instead Bellamy’s face took on a weird expression. Then he smiled, ducked his head, and started playing with the tools on the table in front of her.

“So,” he said, angling his body to lean into her space and see what she was working on. “What did you salvage?” 

It went like that for a while, a hundred little instances of a touch, a lean, a word in her ear. Clarke would later be embarrassed to say she hadn’t realized, but maybe she wasn’t supposed to. Nothing overt was said, no requests made of her time or attention that she wouldn’t have given anyway. Bellamy was always just Bellamy to her–present, warm, safe. There were times that the world seemed to electrify when he was in the room, because just knowing he was there put everything into focus. Sooner or later he’d drift to her side, he’d stand close enough that their shoulders touched, and that would be all she needed. It was good and comforting and right to feel him there.

“So when are you going to deal with that?” Raven asked her one afternoon while their quest was held up in an abandoned town somewhere in Kentucky. They’d taken shelter in a school, all hundred and seventy surviving members of the Ark, and they were stopped for a second day while they regrouped their food situation.

“Deal with what?” asked Clarke, picking through a box of crayons Bellamy had presented to her, his hand on her shoulder as she looked down at the surviving wax pieces and beamed. He’d left to do other errands, and Clarke was testing her prize on various surfaces.

“Him,” Raven snorted, and when Clarke glanced over she jerked her head towards the door. “All of that.”

Clarke blinked. “All of what?” she asked, and it really wasn’t her fault, okay, she was distracted by her gift. It took a moment of looking between Raven’s flat stare, the door where Bellamy had vanished, and the box of crayons before she managed, “Oh, no. That’s not…he doesn’t.”

“Bullshit, you know he does.”

Clarke bit her lip, and inhaled, then exhaled. Suddenly it was hard to speak, and she wasn’t even sure she knew what they were talking about.

Except, yes, maybe she did.

“He did bring me a present,” she admitted, almost whispering.

“I got one present four towns back,” observed Raven. “It was a tool, for fixing our radios. You’ve gotten presents at nearly every stop, and most of them are about things you like, not things you do.”

Suddenly feeling her palms sweat, Clarke set the box of crayons down on the nearest table with a smack. Then she wiped her hands on her pants, and tried not to glance at the door. She mostly succeeded.

“This isn’t a good idea.”

Raven winked at her. “Sure it is. Life is short, Clarke. Smell the roses.”  
  
Clarke felt her own face freeze up, and her body went suddenly tight as a bow. She swallowed, and blinking unexpected tears, fought to look Raven in the eye.

“Don’t be mean,” she managed. Her voice was too small, and she hated hearing herself sound that way. But…“You don’t have to be mean about it.”

“Oh, Clarke—no,” Raven gasped, dropping her electronics and rounding the table with as much speed as she could to get to Clarke. She dove into her friends space, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and tucking their heads together.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” Raven assured her. “I would never mean it like that. You know I wouldn’t.”

Releasing a tenuous sigh, Clarke folded into Raven’s hug, clasping her around the waist with all her strength. Raven gave phenomenal hugs. “I’m okay,” Clarke murmured as she pulled away at last. “It’s okay, I know.”

Sliding her hands down Clarke’s arms, Raven squeezed her elbows. “I was only teasing. You don’t have to do anything about Bellamy. Ignore him if you want. In fact, to hell with men in general. Hell with women too. Fuck people, across the board.“

Clarke stared at Raven for a moment, then she let out a huge belly laugh. She had to push the other girl away a step to hold her side and lean over, the laughter was so intense. Laughing quickly turned into giggles, and every time she raised her eyes to look at Raven’s face, she’d burst into a new fit. Soon Raven was caught in the swell, and then she was laughing just as hard, covering her face with both hands to hold in the noise.

That was how Bellamy found them a minute later: two heads bent over til they almost touched, both girls straining to communicate between fits and starts.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, slightly winded from his sweeping entrance. Bellamy’s eyes swept back and forth between them, then around the deteriorated room. “Is there a gas pocket in walls or something?”

This theory sent both of them howling into another round, this time clearly at his expense. Bellamy rolled his eyes and dramatically spun around to leave, but as he disappeared through the door, Clarke caught a glimpse of his face.

His eyes were soft, his cheeks were warm looking, and his mouth was ticked up at the corner.

“Okay,” said Clarke at last, leaning her head on Raven’s shoulder while they both sucked in great whooshes of air to calm themselves. “I might wanna deal with it.”

“Soon?” Raven prompted. “You deserve something nice.”

“Soon,” Clarke promised. “And yeah…I think we both do.”


	25. As Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have to understand: Clarke and Bellamy were sleeping together, but it really wasn’t a big deal. It was totally and completely fine, okay? They weren’t *actually* sleeping together. They were sharing a bed as friends. For comfort.
> 
> “I don’t get it,” said Miller. 
> 
> “We’re sharing a bed,” Bellamy explained, “as friends. For comfort.”

* 

 

You have to understand: Clarke and Bellamy were sleeping together, but it really wasn’t a big deal. It was totally and completely fine, okay? They weren’t _actually_ sleeping together. They were sharing a bed as friends. For comfort.

“I don’t get it,” said Miller. 

“We’re sharing a bed,” Bellamy explained, “as friends. For comfort.”

“Yeeeaaahhhhhhh,” drawled Bryan, as he approached and threw his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “You two? I don’t get that at all.”

Bellamy gave both of them an assessing look. They waited. He waited.

He broke first.

“Fuck, I don’t get it either,” he admitted. Growling, he kicked a nearby empty barrel. It fell over, spilling a couple dust bunnies, and eventually rolled to a stop with an anticlimactic thud. “It’s wonderful, and I hate it. I’m so confused.”

 

*

 

The important thing to grasp here is that _plenty_ of people shared a bed for friendship and comfort. Bedrolls were a precious commodity when your whole society was on the move.  In their great quest for the promised land (per ALIE’s final coordinates of safety), they managed to find frequent ruins to stay in along the main roads. Nevertheless, beds were rare and people still had to pair up.

Naturally, Clarke was supposed to share with Raven, right?  But Raven kicked in her sleep and also swore and tossed a lot, and everyone agreed that she deserved her own bed anyway.  Harper was still hooking up with Monty, Jasper did his own thing, Abby was getting some Old People Adult Alone Time with Kane, and Octavia was…ornery.  Clarke was all prepared to sleep by the door, but Bellamy insisted that was a stupid plan.

“So what you’re saying,” Murphy clarified, “Is that big scary Bellamy Blake dragged you all the way over to the bed he’d picked out for himself and then gave a speech until you stayed.”

“No,” protested Clarke. “Of course not. It wasn’t like that at all.”

Murphy stared. Clarke stared back. Murphy won.

“The speech part came first,” she admitted. She added, defensively, “It was a really good one.”

 

*

 

The point being, it wasn’t their fault they had to share a bed. And it was completely platonic, too. It was so platonic that Clarke and Bellamy didn’t even have to talk about how platonic it was; they just understood _._ That’s why their partnership was so good: they had an amazingly successful level of personal communication.

“It’s great that you’re both talking, honey,” agreed her mom. “But please. I’m trying to have a serious conversation about your health. The implants are _not_ reliable.”

Clarke stood in a huff, arms crossed. “We aren’t sleeping together! How many people do I have to explain this to?”

Abby ‘tsked’ at this. Loudly.  “But you are. Sleeping together.”

“Okay yes,” said Clarke. “As friends. For comfort. He mentioned it to me several times.”

“Well then better tell your friend to pull out,” her mother advised, rolling right over Clarke’s offended gasp. “We don’t need any babies for at least a year.”

 

*

 

Who really cared, anyway, if they were sleeping together?  It shouldn’t matter to people so much.  Friends slept together all the time. It didn’t mean that every single one of their social circle had to casually announce their personal opinion on the situation.  

“What you need is a game plan,” said Monty from the front passenger seat of the rover. ”Here’s one: ‘Clarke, I’m in love with you and I want us to sleep together as a couple.’ Short and simple worked great on me.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and fiddled with the some of the dashboard components. “I can’t just say that, it would put her on the spot. She’d be difficult.”

“Yes,” Monty agreed, “Telling the truth is difficult.”

“I don’t even know what we’re doing. She keeps telling people how platonic we are, then every day she wakes up basically on top of me, with her hands up my shirt. I know what her hair smells like. And….other parts.”

Monty shrugged. “So why don’t you just kiss her?”  Then because he thought he was funny, he winked too. “As a friend.”

 

*

 

Everyone knows that true friendship is about balance, communication, and trust. Those were three things that Clarke and Bellamy were particularly good at, and anyway what’s the point in fixing something that already works?

“It doesn’t sound like it’s working,” Raven pointed out, handing her a piece of deer jerky. “I think he wants to sleep with you.”

Clarke tucked her hair behind her ear and nibbled on the meat. Through her bites, she made humming noises, then asked, “Okay but _does_ he?”

“Yes,” said Raven, with authority. “He literally is already.”

“I asked him about our arrangement the other day, and he said ‘What are friends for?’ Then he told me he had guns to clean and vanished. So like I said, platonic.”

Sighing, Raven lifted her leg on top of a supply box and kept it there, massaging her knee. She ripped a piece of jerky off with her teeth, and looked flatly at her friend. “What do _you_ want, Clarke?”

Clarke bit her lip. “Honestly? I want to sit in his lap and run my hands through his hair for an hour. _Then_ I want to have sex.”

“See, you two weirdos deserve each other.”

 

*

 

When all was said and done, you have to understand: Clarke and Bellamy did sleep together. But trust me, it was for a  _very_ good reason.  

You’ll recall, there was that dramatic incident. The memorable one. Then there was some blood and crying. Finally, there was triumph and there was a satisfying resolution. Everyone was grateful to be alive, and nothing says ‘I’m glad we didn’t die’ like having amazing, end-of-the-world, hyper affectionate sex with the person you wake up next to every morning.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Bellamy said. So much so he said it again, fervently.

“Are we still just friends?” asked Clarke. It was night and they were ensconced in their travel tent, her legs on either side of his hips and his hands practically everywhere.

“Harsh,” Bellamy grunted as he tugged her shirt up over her arms. He dropped his head forward to nuzzle her breasts over her bra, and Clarke dragged her fingers through his hair, scraping his scalp with her nails. Bellamy groaned, kissing her skin. “You’re my favorite friend.”

“Good, you too,” said Clarke, and cupped his chin to bring him back up for a kiss. It was hot and sexy and liquid, until she pulled back. “Bellamy?”

“Clarke?” he returned, grinning and nosing at her cheeks.

She paused, a little shy. “I’m in love with you. I want us to sleep together as a couple.” 

“I love you too,” Bellamy said, pecking her on the lips. She smiled, and he smiled, and there was suddenly a lot of smiling happening.

“Damn we communicate well,” Bellamy observed, rolling her beneath him on the bed. 

“Hell yeah,” said Clarke, and surged upward to kiss him again. “Go us.”


	26. Every You, Every Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellarkefanfiction flashfic challenge entry: "hands"

Bellamy had his back turned when the soft “I’m sorry,” cut through the cloud of frustration in the room. For a moment be was taken aback–she was sorry? Was that supposed to change anything? Was that supposed to make it okay that Clarke was sitting across from him dressed in clothes that Lexa probably gave her, spouting words about justice that she had no right to judge?

Bellamy shut his eyes, and tried to keep out the soft shuffle of her breathing–her crying.

Clarke was crying, and now like a wind-up toy he turned to look. Fuck, the sound of her sniffles and he reacted like some Pavlovian experiment. Clarke sat on crate with her eyes downcast, her knee bouncing with nerves, and… and there’s no way this was an act. He’d seen her at her worst, and she’d had the same face in that moment that she had now. He never wanted to give her a reason to feel like this; he never wanted to give himself a reason to feel like this.

Clarke inhaled a shuddering breath, and raised her eyes to meet his. The grief in her, it was staggering.

“I’m sorry I left,” she said, then continued like she was pulling the words from the smallest, most delicate part of herself. “But I knew that I could,” she sniffled, “because they had you.”

He’d started this farce wanting to get a real reaction from her–any reaction at all that wasn’t tainted by the Grounders, but this was worse. She was crying, and he was holding back crying, and as furious as he was, as fucked up as he was—all he wanted to do was make it better for her.

When he moved, it wasn’t his choice. His body moved because suddenly, somehow, there was no universe where Clarke cried and he didn’t go to her.

Of course he went to her. When he took her hand, held it like a precious thing between his own, Bellamy knew that the world was fucked, and he was fucked, but maybe in this moment, she didn’t have to cry anymore.


End file.
